


all strings attached

by moonshinelouis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Friends (TV) Fusion, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Girl Direction, Jealousy, OT5 Friendship (One Direction), but there isn't even explicit sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2020-12-24 16:30:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21102518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonshinelouis/pseuds/moonshinelouis
Summary: “I’m being serious, Harry. You’re lovely. If no one, so far, has wanted you for good, it’s because they’re fools,” Louis punctuates with a curt nod and a long sip of her drink.“If that were true, I would've had you in my bed a long time ago.”friends au. girl direction.





	all strings attached

**Author's Note:**

> so basically this follows season 5 (when chandler and monica get together) but kind of only vaguely; it's mostly the friends vibe i guess. (this was originally mlm but i panicked and wrote lesbians lol) 
> 
> thanks to the mods of this fest for being so kind and for putting this together! thanks lyly for keeping me going and answering some really random questions and putting up with me in general. also thank you for everyone who commented on my last fic, you were so nice and you made this experience a little less terrifying! :') [tumblr](https://moonshinelouis.tumblr.com/post/612881707155243008/moonshinelouis-archive-all-strings-attached) // [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5eiQSN7fOzFzIp1sjusMWA?si=chvjel-0TsuYjv_WUemB1A)

_ is it wrong for me to not want half?  
_ _i want all of you, all the strings attached_

—_i__f i can’t have you, shawn mendes _

The venue is magnificent. Though it’s half taken down, Zayn and Liam decorated it beautifully, with fairy lights and veil to soften the exposed bricks and cement. The golden lighting will look perfect tomorrow night, when they walk down the aisle and promise each other forever in the face of any obstacle that should come their way.

Harry slumps in her seat, taking a long sip of her wine with what is surely a zombie of an expression, barely moving her wrist to tip the glass and unblinkingly staring at a wall. She’s happy for her friends, she really is. It took them a long time to get together, and they’re happy and in love, and they deserve to be. Harry is just disappointed with herself, the world.

She has a reliable job. She’s good-looking. She has her own apartment. She’s good in bed – or at least she likes to think so, no one’s really ever said otherwise. She doesn’t understand why she’s been so unlucky in love. It doesn’t help that her aunt Mary keeps making these mean jokes about how she’ll never see Harry’s own wedding.

“You know,” Aunt Mary had said drunkenly earlier in the evening, “you should help your friends pay for this wedding. Sure would do them a favour, and it’s not like you’ll be needing your savings anyway.” She finished with a loud, obnoxious cackle. 

Harry had simply muttered, “Well you don’t have to rub it on my face,” and headed towards the open bar, but the words had struck her at her heart, voicing what she’d been thinking all along. 

Now, sitting alone at her table, as everyone who’d been sitting with her now off dancing with their partner, Harry sighs. She promises herself that she’ll keep the tears in until she gets to her hotel room. She can do this. 

Harry’s just about to get up for another drink to help swallow down the tightness of her throat when Louis sits beside her.

“Oioi, Harriet,” she cheers. When Harry doesn’t reply as enthusiastically, she becomes more sombre. “Hey, y'alright? I brought you ‘nother drink.” 

Harry exhales, accepting the new glass of champagne. “‘M just… sad. That I’m all alone,” she shrugs, tracing the rim of her glass with her finger. 

“Oh, darling,” Louis soothes. She knows how much Harry wants this – a wedding, a partner – for herself. They’re best friends, after all. Have been for years. “Hey, it’s alright. This hasn’t really been ideal for either one of us, eh?” she chuckles. She’s Zayn’s best woman, and during her speech, which was supposed to be a fun ice breaker, no one laughed. And being funny is what Louis thinks is her _one _good feature, even though it’s really not.

“Hey, I laughed!” Harry says with a soft smile.

“Out loud?” Louis deadpans. 

“Well, I didn’t want anyone to think I was stupid…” Louis’ glare just intensifies, eyebrows twitching up knowingly. Despite being sad herself, here Louis is, trying to make Harry feel better.

They’re interrupted by a wedding invitee walking in, stumbling slightly. He pauses in front of them, swaying on the spot. 

“I just wanted to say that Liam is a _ wonderful _young woman,” he says. 

“Erm, thanks,” Harry raises her glass half-heartedly, confused. “We like her,” she gestures to Louis beside her, who nods, equally perplexed.

“My _ God_, you must’ve been a teenager when you had her…” the man squints. 

Harry just gapes. What? Liam is _ older _than her. She needs another drink. Harry shoots off her seat so quickly that it nearly falls, but Louis catches it. Then she runs after her towards the bar, calling after Harry. 

“Harry! The man is completely _ hammered, _alright? There’s no way you look like Liam’s mum!” she heaves when she finally catches up to Harry.

Harry just stares. “Then why would he say that?”

“Because he’s mad! Okay? He came up to me earlier and thanked me for my very moving performance in _ Titanic.” _Harry’s not sure if Louis’ just making that up to make her laugh. Either way, she’s compelled, though the pang of sadness that runs through her core dampens the feeling before it can really bloom. 

“Aunt Mary’s right. I’m never gonna get married.” She takes a large gulp of whatever silky drink she’d blindly picked up and fixes her purse under her arm, freeing her other hand to pat down her dress hem off the stool bar, where it had flown onto in her rush.

“You know what? That is…” Louis grumbles, gesticulating wildly. Then she breathes, calming herself. “Wha-who wouldn’t want you?” she finally whispers softly, a small kitten frown contrasting with her tone.

“Oh, please. I’m a single mom with a 26-year-old daughter.”  
  
“Harry.” 

“What?”

“I’m being serious. You’re lovely. If no one, so far, has wanted you for good, it’s because they’re fools,” she punctuates with a curt nod and a long sip of her drink. 

Harry takes her in: her hand stuffed in her pocket, her tux hugging her curves. Her soft pixie hair and the way it frames her slim figure, accentuating her bright blue eyes and sharp cheekbones. The way she stands, legs parted and eyes high like she’s tall, like she owns wherever she is. And it’s because of this open bar, Harry argues with herself, that she says what she says next.

“If that were true, I would’ve had you in my bed a long time ago.” 

Harry watches the way Louis stills, mid-sip, and swallows hard at that. “Whu?” she asks eloquently. Harry just quirks an eyebrow. 

It’s all those drinks’ fault, Harry tells herself, as they lean in, as they punch each others’ lips, and search hungrily with their hands. Because friends don’t _ do _ that. They don’t kiss – full stop – but they _ especially _don’t have a first kiss like this: steady. Sure.

And it’s only those drinks to blame when they stumble into Louis’ room – which they knew would be empty, as Niall’s surely picked herself a girl – and it’s the drinks which are guilty of the way they undress desperately, too focused to keep their mouths on each other. It’s especially the drinks’ fault when morning finds them in each others’ arms, tangled in the sheets and with hair running wild. 

They’re just friends.

When Liam barges in on that morning, Louis does the only sensible thing: she throws the covers over Harry, who wakes up immediately. Just when she’s about to complain, Liam yells into the hotel room.

“I’m getting married today!” 

Though usually Louis would grumble annoyedly with morning grumpiness, and maybe throw pillow at her face, she can’t slip up now, with Harry laying beside her. So she begrudgingly goes along with it. 

“Yeah, you are!” If Liam weren’t so hyped, she would definitely notice something is off. As it is, she just continues.

“I’m getting married! Today!” she squeals. 

“Fuck yeah!” Louis agrees, trying to match her excitement. And then Liam just makes this weird gurgle noise, laughs hysterically, and slams the door. 

Harry immediately punches the duvet away, gasping for fresh air. “Do you think she knows I was here?” she gasps. 

Louis shakes her head furiously, a blush suddenly spreading on her face and neck, beautifully naked. 

Harry’s breath hitches when reality settles in, that she’s naked in bed with one of her best friends. Louis has probably been thinking the same thing for at least a couple seconds longer, if her frozen expression is anything to go by.

“Well, uh, I’ve, uh, we’ve never done _ that _ before!” Louis laughs nervously. 

“Hm, no,” Harry chuckles shyly, fixing her hair behind her ear even though it wasn’t bothering her before. She just needs something to do with her hands.  
  
“So, um, how, er, how are you?” 

Harry smiles fondly, though she’s nervous herself. “I’m quite good, thanks. You?” 

“I’m great!” Louis replies a bit too fast. “You?” Harry stares at her for a second before giggling.

“Right,” Louis’ blush darkens, and she’s holding the duvet so tightly, her knuckles are white. 

“Well, I, uh, I better get going,” Harry says, though she stays where she is. 

“Okay.” Louis doesn’t move either. They just stare at each other. 

“Um, could you not look?” Harry looks down at her hands to ask too afraid of what she’ll find in Louis’ eyes. 

Too afraid to see relief.

Louis just gulps and nods, hiding underneath the sheets. 

Harry’s pacing around the entrance of the parlour, waiting to guide other guests to their seat, thoughts going somewhat like _ oh my god what have I done what is happening does anyone know what are gonna do about it is it gonna be awkward oh my _god, and so on and so forth when Niall walks in, casual as always, and asks, “Hey, Harry, you seen Louis?”

“What?” Harry squeaks loudly, surprised and panicked. “I’m not seeing Louis!” 

Niall just shoots her a concerned look. “I didn’t say that?” She doesn’t get a chance to speculate further, though, because Louis walks in. 

She looks dashing, of course. Her crisp, dark blue suit that fits her snugly, which, with the help of her tall and pointy quiff, emphasises her sharp cheekbones and slim waist, and though Harry can’t see it right now, she’s sure the tux is tight enough to do wonders to her bum. Louis catches her looking and winks, a smirk playing on her lips. _ How is she so casual _ Harry thinks in between _ I want last night again _ and its variations. 

“Anyway Harry, Zayn told me to tell you – and it’s quite urgent – that you need to go back up and grab the paper where she wrote her vows; she says you know where it is,” Niall interrupts their interaction. 

“Don’t worry, I saw it when I was leaving, after doing her hair,” Harry fumbles with her clutch from last night. “I have it right here, can you take it to her?” Niall takes the papers and walks quickly out the chapel.

“Listen,” Harry says when Niall finally leaves. She doesn’t believe in starting conversations with ‘hi’ with close friends. “This, uh,” she gestures between them, “it’s a Las Vegas thing, right?”

Louis’ not really sure where she’s going with this, but nods. “Yeah, yeah, of course. All Vegas’ fault,” she says, biting her lip and crossing her arms not unfriendly – just in her Louis way. 

“So, when we get back to London, it’s over, right?” Harry’s also biting her lip, so hard it hurts, but what can she do?

“Of course. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, and all that,” she smiles, if a bit restrained. She must be nervous too. 

“Yeah. But, uh, while we’re here we can still… Like,” Harry stammers, never actually finishing her thought. Not that she needs to.

“If you’d like to?” _ Of course she’d like to, she’s literally the one who brought it up_, Louis thinks. 

Harry nods sweetly but enthusiastically, in her lovely Harry way. “So, I’ll see you tonight?” This time, Harry’s tone is downright cheeky. 

Louis winks at her, biting down her smirk and calming herself by stuffing her hands in her pockets, admitting, once more, her natural power stance.

They run down the hall like horny teenagers to Louis’ room, disregarding completely the other guests who were probably sleeping, given the late hour. 

Louis checks the entire room thoroughly – though that’s hardly necessary, since it’s very small–before deeming it safe. Then she approaches Harry, who’s leaning against a small telephone table, with a cheeky smirk. 

“Hello there,” she whispers lowly, to Harry’s lips, before taking one quick glance at her eyes and closing the distance between them by biting Harry’s bottom lip lightly, which prompts a surprised moan from Harry. She sneaks a hand to the back of Harry’s dress, fiddling with the zipper, which she’d be happy to do until they’re both too desperate to waste any more time. 

Harry, without letting go of Louis’ lips, unbuttons her dress shirt, and soon they’re panting against each others’ mouths and their hairs are as messy as though they’d just woken up, from running their hands on it so much, and well on their way to undressing. 

That’s when there’s a knock on the door. 

“Oh, what, now?” Louis grumbles, breathless. 

She quickly redoes the buttons of her shirt and opens the door just a crack to find Niall looking back at her. 

“Hey Lou, let me in. I got a girl,” she whispers excitedly. 

“Niall, we share a room. And I’ve got a girl in, too!” 

Niall frowns. “No, you don’t. I just saw you go in there with Harry.”

Louis fists her hands tightly, impatient. “Well, we’re, uh, hanging out in here.” 

Niall sighs. “Well, which one of us is gonna be having sex here tonight, me or you?” she whispers indignantly. 

Louis grits her teeth. “Well, I suppose I would have to say _ you_,” Louis hisses. “Why can’t you go to hers?”

“Louis, please. It’s our last night here,” Niall begs, not bothering to answer. 

She’s well aware they’ve only got tonight. She would love to argue that that is precisely why she’s so desperate to enjoy it with Harry, but she can’t expose her and Harry’s… thing. So she just slams the door shut to unlock the chain and gets out with Harry before they’re subjected to images of Niall Horan having sex.

“I’m sorry,” Louis grunts as she sits down on the cold steps of the emergency staircase. 

“Hey, it’s not your fault. Just bad luck,” Harry shrugs. “C’mon, let’s go to a dingy bar.”

“Why?” 

“Why not? Our hotel rooms are taken up, so we’ve nowhere else to go. Besides, you could finger me.” She says it really casually, as though she were simply talking about food or something else just as mundane. 

“You can’t just say that,” Louis chokes. She blushes and guffaws at herself, the little bit of nervousness in her heart washing away. 

“Good, now you’re smiling. Let’s go.”

The bar is crowded with other tourists, mingling in the sticky dance floor. They chose a gay bar, of course, because it was close and they’re more fun. It’s playing Britney Spears when they enter, which immediately makes Harry love it.

“This is my favourite song, you know,” she mutters in Louis’ ear when they’re walking to get drinks. _ “Hit me, baby, one more time,” _she sings, popping her hips sharply at every beat.

Louis laughs, automatically reaching out to gently touch her waist. “I know. You sing it in the shower all the time.”

“What? How do you know that?” She has a dorky smile on, all big and dimple-y and lovely. Louis kisses it off.

“Because I’m always at your flat? You know this,” they laugh against each others’ lips. 

“Oh, right,” she breathes back.

Louis pays for their drinks and they head to the edge of the dance floor, balancing the liquid in their glasses while they sway gently. Once they’re done drinking, Harry pulls Louis to the middle of the dance floor by the hand. She pulls her arm again once she’s stopped, which makes Louis pump straight into her chest; Harry takes the opportunity to kiss her deep and slow. 

Their slow kiss eventually turns heated, and their hips, once dancing, now grinding to the beat.

“Fuck,” Louis moans when she pulls away, hands leaving bruises on Harry’s hip from holding so tightly. “You make me crazy, Curly.” Harry tries to suppress her dopey smile by licking and biting at her bottom lip, but that only incites Louis more. She surges forward again, this time with intent. Her hands fly to Harry’s hair, pulling her a bit roughly down to meet her face, and the moan Harry lets out when she pulls her hair has Louis’ brain glitching. “I think I was promised something,” she teases with a hand ghosting by Harry’s inner thighs. Harry nods frantically, eyes gone dark, and allows Louis to drag her away to the toilets. 

After they’re done, she crowds Harry against the door just to snog for a good while, before heading back to Harry’s hotel room. 

They fall asleep beside each other for the last time, what with their flight back home to London in the morning. They’re too tired to think of what happens tomorrow night, too drunk with alcohol and each other – Louis personally thinks she’s more than justified, what with the smell of Harry’s shampoo rubbing off on her all night as they cuddle.

Louis wakes up with Harry on top of her, weight on her upper arms and jailing Louis’ head in between them, staring sweetly down at Louis, dimples and all. And then she leans down for a soft kiss, one that’s slow and sensual and all lips, no tongue. Louis’ smiling into it, bringing her hands to Harry’s waist to hold her there, pressed up against her. It’s not a demanding touch, just a, _ please stay longer; stay forever _ kind of _ Notting Hill _ sappiness. 

It’s the first morning Louis enjoys waking up early. It doesn’t matter that every kiss is tinted with the pre-miserableness at the thought of _ this _, whatever it is that they have together, ending. 

Live in the moment, and all that.

“So anyway, I might be seeing her again, if it all works out and she comes to London,” Niall says, starting the conversation as if it’s been an ongoing thing per usual. 

“Who are we talking about here?” Louis asks, closing her book annoyedly and shifting to face her best friend and flatmate. 

“Hanna. You know, that girl I slept with yesterday?” Niall nods and stuffs her mouth with crisps. As if she introduces her lays.

Louis just hums in acknowledgement. She’s usually less dry with Niall, even if she sometimes (a lot of times) annoys her. She’s just a little heartbroken today. 

Niall continues to talk about Hanna, and meanwhile, Louis traces her lips with her thumb, thinking about kissing Harry.

Which is precisely why she guiltily startles when real-life Harry comes by and sits on Niall’s seat, who apparently had left without Louis’ notice. 

“Hey,” she says with one of those gorgeous smiles of hers, the ones that showcase her dimples and puts a twinkle in her eye. Just seeing her happy makes the corners of Louis’ mouth tilt up without her consent. “I was thinking,” she continues in her excitement. Louis can see the exact moment she sees through Louis. Her smile falls, fills with gentle worry. “Lou? Y’alright?” 

Louis just brushes it off; she’s fine now, anyway. “Just Niall. Anyway, what were you saying?”

Harry hesitates. She seems conflicted, clearly unsure if what she'll say will bother Louis. But she continues, albeit less surely. “Well, I was thinking that we’re flying over the ocean, right? So we’re not in London yet…” Typical Harry, never actually saying what she really means. 

It takes her a bit, but eventually Louis quirks an eyebrow. “You wanna join the Mile High Club, darling?” voice cheeky and teasing as custom.

But because things are just not made out to work for Louis, that’s when turbulence hits the plane. The lights to buckle up are lit, and they’re stuck in their seats. Several people groan throughout the plane. 

Harry sighs and rests her head on the seat, producing a soft _ thud. _

Louis rests her hand on her inner thigh, clad in faux leather trousers that hug her every curve and would’ve been delightful to peel off, and resists the urge to kiss her cheek. They’re just friends. 

“Maybe next time, love,” Louis says, trying not to think too much into it because did she just assume there’d be a next time? As if. 

Harry fiddles with her shirt. “Maybe it’s best we never got to do it again,” she mumbles.

“Makes this weekend more special,” Louis mutters, trying no to let the disappointment seep through her words. 

They fall into an awkward, squirmish silence, until Louis gets too bored and grabs the book she’d been reading out of the seat’s pocket. 

“Oh, r. h. Sin, Lou?” Harry asks, snatching it out of her hand. “This is good stuff.” She gives her an eyeful. “Didn’t know you read poetry.”

“Oh,” Louis blushes. “I have a small collection.” A lie. It’s Harry who inspired her to go to a bookstore at all, who showed her that there’s a place among the papers to find calm amidst the chaos of her mind; it’s Harry who taught her the magic of just browsing for books, discarding the need to actually read them; it’s Harry who showed her that there are readable poems in the small, dusty poetry section of shops. It’s all for her, as most things turn out to be

“Mh,” Harry hums, turning _whiskey words and a shovel_ _I_ on her hands. “Well I haven’t read this one yet, and I’m incredibly bored. So thank you,” she smiles cheekily and settles in her seat to start reading. 

Louis just scoffs fondly, never one to be able to deny Harry much. Especially not now, when the taste of her lips still dances on her skin. Not now, when all she really wants is to look at her be: to watch the light brush through her lashes, through her curls, turning them caramel; to see her eyes weave through the words, from left to right, left to right, over and over; sometimes stopping to reread a word or sentence, sometimes stopping to find Louis’ eyes already on her, to read her something that she liked. 

_ more than anything_  
_my heart longs for_  
_a lover who will always_  
_appreciate my worth  
_ _and match my effort_

—_ r. h. Sin - whiskey words and a shovel I _

Niall, Louis, and Harry share a cab to their building, Zayn and Liam already tanning in Miami for their honeymoon. They climb several flights of stairs, unaccustomed to what had been a daily occurrence and worn out from stiff aeroplane seats and from pulling heavy luggage up staircases.

When they finally reach their floor, Niall and Louis wave tiredly at Harry, scrambling to find their keys. But then Harry catches Louis’s eyes, and she’s suddenly not at all tired. Not even a little bit. Still, she swallows all the words clenching her throat shut and gets in her flat, deciding to use her newfound energy to unpack. At least she’ll be doing something useful. 

She winds up sitting on her sofa, simply staring–but not seeing, her mind elsewhere–at her suitcase and playing back her and Louis’ time in Vegas again.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door, which Harry doesn’t have time to answer because whoever it is has already cracked it open.

“Hey, Harry,” Louis says, walking casually through the thick air. As if she doesn’t feel it too.

“Oh, hey.” Harry’s standing dumbly in the middle of her living room, so she moves to the kitchen to have something to do with her hands, even if it is just to open a pack of crackers she doesn’t even feel like eating. She finds herself making tea, surprising herself when her hands find all the things she needs without having to think about it. 

“Um, Harry, I…” Louis begins at the same time Harry says, “Well, we’re finally alone!” and blushing wildly. At that, Louis brings a hand to her neck, her cheeks pinking beautifully. 

“I, uh, wanted to talk to you about that actually,” Harry gulps, and turns around to face Louis. It feels monumental. “I wanted to thank you. I was in a really bad place, with my aunt and… And all that. And that time with you really meant a lot to me,” she blushes. “And I guess I’m just trying to say thanks.” 

“Oh,” Louis blushes even more. “This weekend meant a lot to me, too. And it wasn’t ‘cos I was in a bad place or anything. It just meant a lot to me ‘cos... you’re really hot,” she admits. Harry bursts into laughter, and Louis bites her lip. “Is that okay?” she asks timidly.

“That’s okay,” she giggles, nodding. 

Louis licks her front teeth before cheekily adding, “And I’m cute too?” 

Harry quirks an eyebrow. “And you’re cute, too.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, enveloping Harry in her arms, both fitting their heads in the crook of each others’ necks. 

“Well, I gotta go unpack,” Louis waves, and heads out. 

Harry stands in her kitchen for a second, staring at her hands with a dumb smile on her face. She walks up to the door confidently, but as soon as she gets there, falters. She inhales sharply, and turns around, heading for her room, when the door opens again. Louis walks in, looking pensive and a bit impish–which was not unusual–and with a cocky hand on her waist. It’s as if she knows she knows something the universe doesn’t, and is ready to play it as she wishes. At the snap of her fingers, as she likes things.

“I’m still on Vegas time, does that count?” 

“Oh, it counts,” Harry replies, already breathless.

They kiss desperately, needily, and softly all once; their wanderings hands contrasting with the tender way they brush each others’ cheeks and hair out of the way. They stumble, unable to stop kissing, touching each other, until Harry’s pressed against her bedroom door, frantically looking for the door handle, taking thrice as long as it should because Louis’ mouth and hands are just so darn _ distracting. _

Eventually, though, they make it to Harry’s bed. 

The “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” rule dissolves pretty quickly. Neither Louis nor Harry are very disappointed about that. (Who would, when the sex is often and so great?)

That is not to say they talk about it, of course.

It is not uncommon for Louis and Harry to wake up in each others’ arms, tangled up in the sheets with warm smiles on their faces first thing in the morning – even though Louis is a firm hater of mornings. 

It’s not uncommon, either, for them to have baths together, with loads of bubbles and only in candlelight and champagne. Who dictated it’s a strictly romantic activity, anyway?

Louis doesn’t keep reminding herself they’re just friends. There’s no use. She’s been plenty heartbroken in her young, gay life. She knows it’ll come to happen. 

But for now, she enjoys Harry’s company. She enjoys being hers; being _ with _her. 

The pain will come later. 

It can wait.

“I absolutely think you should keep your café intact. You know these corporates, they’re just feeding the vicious capitalist cycle,” Niall says through a mouthful of cereal. “You’re a great baker, Harry.” 

“Thanks, don’t speak with your mouth full.” 

“Whatever, thanks mum,” she eye-rolls. Louis snorts from beside Harry. It’s just another mundane day, all five having breakfast at Harry’s before heading their own way.

“You are _ so _welcome, darling; have you gotten all your things for school?” Harry mocks in a doting voice. 

“Ew, get away from me!” Niall squeaks, laughing. That brings Liam and Zayn’s attention, who are sitting on the sofa in their private little world, to them.

“Well, I agree with Ireland. You’re fantastic, love,” Louis says with a warm smile. “I best be off to work,” she sighs. She’s not very fond of her work, Harry knows that much, but she can never remember what it is that she does. She should ask sometime.

Just as Harry’s about to wish her a good day, Louis leans in, and suddenly all she can focus on are her lips against hers.

They kiss, and it's just a short, sweet peck; a goodbye kiss. They’re just happy.

And that’s when they realise they’re surrounded by dead silence. 

“Uh,” Louis pulls away. “Well, have a good day!” She turns to Niall and waggles her eyebrows, arms spread out. Niall’s too stunned to do much, so she allows Louis to touch their lips. They spend less than half a second connected, far too eager to getaway.

Harry’s just left to tentatively mouth at air, devoid of words. Just utterly stunned. 

Louis turns to Zayn and Liam next, who are also paralysed and staring wide-eyed at the interaction. “Um, well, you’re committed women now, so….” Louis trails off. She swallows nervously and promptly runs out the door. 

“_What _was that all about” is how Niall breaks the silence. 

Harry clears her throat and answers as seriously as she can. “Must be something she picked up in Vegas, I dunno.” 

They all stare at her weirdly, probably wondering if she really believes that. Harry just continues to drink her morning tea, thankful to be able to blame morning grogginess for her shit reasoning. 

Later that day, the three walk in on Harry and Louis full-on snogging. 

Harry’s back is facing the door, and they’re all dead quiet, and she’s melting into Louis’ mouth, so it takes her by surprise when Louis pushes her back all of a sudden. She’s weirdly turned on by it. Only a little.

“Yeah, uh, thanks for having me over!” she says, gesticulating wildly as she does when she’s nervous. Then she sashays away, without looking back.

Following her bum out with her eyes, Harry finally notices their best friends standing by the door, completely bewildered. It’s hard, but Harry manages not to burst into laughter – and it’s an especially hard test on her skills when Louis kisses Niall again, because for some reason she didn’t see this one coming _ again _. 

When Louis walks by Zayn, Liam puts a protective hand around her waist and pulls her gently back, but it’s not like Louis would kiss a married woman. She just salutes them. 

“Seriously, _ what _is that all about?” Niall says, rubbing Louis’ kiss from her mouth. 

Harry just shrugs and asks, “Anyone fancy some cookies? Freshly baked, of course,” and the topic dies. 

Zayn and Liam are at their usual meeting place – Harry’s café at _ Pride Books, _a bookshop of LGBT+ novels. They have their own reserved section at a corner of the bakery–close enough for Harry to participate from behind the counter and still help clients.

Today, the couple is hunched over a book – _ Baby Names: Gay Icons _ – trying to come up with a list. Their surrogate, apparently, will have the baby soon, and though originally they had taken the whole “naming the child” thing very lightly, thinking that maybe in the nine months of gestation they’d find _ the _name, they hadn’t. 

“No, honey, I like Harvey. I do. I’m just saying, _ I don’t think it’d work that well for a girl _,” Zayn is saying when Harry comes out of the storage room with more frosting, gesticulating like when she does when things don’t go according to plan. (It’s quite the recurring situation.)

Liam pouts. “I guess,” she murmurs. 

Even more annoyed, Zayn sighs, crossing her legs and opening a random magazine sharply. 

“Hey, how’s the naming going?” Harry asks, bright and cheery as if blind to the mood in the room. 

“Well, we’ve picked Harvey for our boy name, but we can’t seem to pick a girl one.” Liam seems genuinely distressed, in her cute puppy way. 

“Hm,” Harry hums. “Have you considered neutral?” 

Liam’s brows curve in deeper, tinged with annoyance. “I think Harvey works for girls.” 

“I have to agree with her, Z. Harvey’s cute. Would make a rocker girl.” 

Zayn just huffs, flipping the page – nearly ripping it right off. Then she seems to see a name she likes on the magazine and tells Liam, quietly as they usually are, all the annoyance for each other replaced immediately with the regular-programmed softness. 

Harry must space out of the conversation after that, because she finds herself blinking awake, Zayn waving at her, she can’t quite remember what she was thinking of, just that blue eyes and babies’ giggles frosted the sweet dream.

“Hey H, was just trying to thank you?” Zayn says in a worried tone. “Y’alright?” Of course, Zayn knows how depressed it makes Harry when she’s reminded she’s (technically) single. Almost thirty – _ not even, Styles, shut up, _ Louis would certainly say, perhaps tacking at the end, _ And even if you were, who wouldn’t want you? _– and no serious relationship. 

So Harry snaps out of her daze and plasters on a smile. “Of course. I’m actually okay, you know. Like, being single is not so bad.” 

Zayn’s clearly unconvinced, but nods, turning to Liam again, and they immediately submerge in their own little world.

By the time Louis and Niall get there, Harry’s finished her shift, has just been watching Zayn and Liam interact for the past couple of minutes. She’s snapped out of her observance of true love by a gentle, if slightly calloused, hand on her shoulder. Louis’, she recognises just by its weight. As soon as she knows who it is, Harry’s unable to stop a huge grin from spreading all over her face. 

“Hey,” Harry greets, and maybe she’s just too self-aware, but she can taste the besottedness in her voice as ardently as the black tea she’s just drunk. 

Louis gives her a private smile before saying to the entire group, “So, what’re you lot talking about?” 

“We picked the names!” Liam squeaks, so animatedly that Harry guesses she’d been waiting for the question all along. “Harvey, or Zara. You know. Depending.” 

“Oh, that’s gorgeous!” 

“Isn’t it? It’s perfect!” Zayn gushes, standing up with Liam. “Anyway, we best be off, gotta start sleeping earlier now, since we never know when the baby’s coming and we gotta be well-rested!” 

They walk out, Liam’s hands a constant calm in the small of Zayn’s back while she, usually a very quiet person, babbles excitedly. 

“How much do you wanna bet that’ll end up in sex?” Louis asks casually, stuffing almonds in her mouth whilst looking at them leave the store. Niall and Harry snicker. 

“What can we say? After that much pining, they deserve it,” Harry sighs.

Louis clicks her tongue. “True. But anyway, I best be off as well—”

“Woah, woah there, Mr Kissy,” Niall interrupts, hands up in the air protectively. “I know this American thing is new and all, but it makes me really uncomfortable, and just–_ stop it_, okay?” 

Making an effort to stifle her laugh, Louis is about to defend herself when Harry interrupts, in an oddly serious tone, “Yeah, it disgusts me!” 

Louis turns to Harry, whose blush is rapidly taking over her entire face, and gestures with her hand–which is, of course, around Harry. That comment was just overboard; Niall had already dropped it, being an ever fast-paced person. But she knows Harry didn’t mean to offend her, she was just nervous (Harry is a terrible liar.)

“Fuck, Harry,” Louis whispers against Harry’s neck when they finally get to her flat, Harry pressed up against the door and struggling to concentrate and find the handle and lock the door. Louis’ growing love bite on her neck is not helping at all. 

“Yeah?” Harry sighs once she’s finally managed to turn the lock. 

“What?” Louis lets out a breathy laugh on her neck. “Didn’t ask anything, love.” 

“Oh,” she breathes back. “Can we—uhh,” she moans when Louis presses their hips together. 

“Can we what, love? Not sure I caught your meaning, there,” Louis says through a smirk. 

“Just, uh, bed. Please,” Harry manages to get out.

“Hm. Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” Louis murmurs against her earlobe, and the vibrations make Harry moan. 

“Shit, come on,” Harry says when she realises that that was rather loud and the door is not exactly soundproof. “I’d rather not wake up the entire building.” 

Louis laughs as she turns around and runs into the bedroom, quietly [ singing](https://lyricstranslate.com/en/acordando-o-pr%C3%A9dio-waking-building.html), Harry trailing behind her. 

_ “Let’s wake up this building, make everyone jealous. While they’re going to work, we’ll be making love again...” _

As soon as they’re through the door, Harry finds herself pressed up against the door once more, but this time she’s as loud as she wants in her begging and moaning, and Louis basks in it, of course. 

By the time they finally get to the bed, Harry’s a babbling mess of Louis’ name and begging, god knows for what. 

Louis gets on all fours on the bed, looking down at Harry flush below her. She takes a moment to just _ look _ at Harry, take in her scarlet cheeks and plump lips extra cherry red from all the kissing, and the love bites reddening all over her neck and chest. She looks wrecked, and Louis hasn’t even _ done _anything yet. 

“Fuck, Curly,” Louis whispers, ducking her head to take Harry’s lips in hers again. 

“That sounds like a good idea.”

“Cheeky,” Louis utters in her ear. “But a fine idea indeed.” 

Harry shivers as Louis slowly and teasingly trails her fingers from her neck down to her chest and belly, and gets goosebumps when Louis gets closer to where she wants so badly, but takes a turn to avoid it. 

“Louis, ungh,” she groans, and Louis just looks up at her and smirks. 

“Do you’ve the stuff?” she asks unnecessarily, because Harry’s already rummaging through her drawer desperately. She takes a minute to find the right kind – no latex; she very nearly sobs in frustration during the fleeting second during which she can’t find any.

Louis' question is nonetheless answered when Harry settles back on the bed with two condoms, a bottle of lube, and a strap-on beside her. 

Despite her smugness, Louis is gentle with Harry, as always. They have a large bed and no work early the next morning, so she takes her time teasing her with her fingers and tongue. By the time she reaches for the condom, Harry's legs are trembling and she’s been begging for a while now, a constant stream of Louis’ name and _ harder, more, _ and _ please _that echo warmly in Louis’ heart. 

Afterwards, they cuddle, naked and sweaty, until daytime, when Louis wakes up to Harry’s mouth on her neck, soft and gentle like the morning sun trickling through the borders of the curtains. Like this, with Harry all to herself, Louis is happy, in a way she hasn’t been for a very long time. 

In the warm breeze of day and Harry everywhere, the thought of falling in love with Harry doesn’t scare her one bit. 

She thinks of all her ex-girlfriends, all of whom she’d gotten rid of before either one grew too attached; of one girl in particular, the one girl she did fall for, the one girl who didn’t fall for her back. But that love wasn’t like this – soft, warm; the kind that creeps slowly, welcomed, and, by the time it’s noticed, the feeling is embraced with delight and happiness. That infatuation had been desperate, crazy, demanding; reckless and short-lived. Nothing more than just that – infatuation.

It’s another lazy morning for Louis and Harry, who, of course, had gone to sleep late the night before, when loud knocks on the door awake them. 

Since it’s Harry’s house – and _ why _would Louis be there so early? – she has to get the door. Harry doesn’t try to hide her annoyance, though the way she shows it – a big pout and grunts – is more endearing than anything, at least to Louis. 

Louis is just finishing putting her socks on when Harry comes back, still a bit grumpy and rumpled from sleep, but much more alert.

“The babies are coming,” Harry says thickly, voice still rough from sleep. 

“Whose?”

“Zayn and Liam’s, of course. Who else’s?” She chuckles.

“Oh. I dunno. It’s too early.” 

“It’s past nine,” Harry giggles airily, rummaging through her drawer for clothes.

“Hm. Yeah, but what time did we go to sleep last night, hm?” Louis cheekily and sweetly kisses her shoulder and heads to the kitchen, not wanting to be caught in Harry’s room when the rest of the girls make their way to their meeting point – Harry’s house.

When Niall, Liam, and Zayn get to Harry’s a couple of minutes later, Louis and Harry are prepared, already looking casual and natural sitting on the sofa and drinking their morning tea like regular friends. 

“Hey, glad you’re already awake; the cabs will get here soon,” Liam says very fast–well, faster, and louder, than usual. Her voice is coated with euphoric nervousness.

“Yeah, okay, Li. We’re just taking our tea,” Louis says calmly, though she’s inwardly hoping none of them catches on to how couple-y she and Harry have been acting, especially right now. They all know Louis is the complete opposite of a morning person, and she gets lost in a fidgety and useless fight against the slight paranoia shimmering in her stomach that their friends will catch on before Harry and Louis figure themselves out. 

What they have is fragile – Louis’s barely been in a serious, long-term relationship; Harry’s found someone she would’ve liked to spend the rest of her life with, if, of course, it weren’t for the fact that he had already lived this part of life, and didn’t want any more children. And no matter how many months – well, it’s been well over a year ago now – Louis will probably never shake off the feeling that she’ll probably never be enough for Harry. Never as good as he had been. Maybe Harry’s already met her soulmate, and had bravely let him go. 

The irrational jealousy had made its way up her heart and through her veins, tightening her grip on the defenceless cup, and Louis forces herself to _ calm the fuck down. _ Today is not about her; _ them. _ It’s about Zayn, Liam, and their baby. She takes a second glance at them, and notices they’re both trying to hold on to each other and make sure the other is calm, wordlessly and softly like true life partners, even when they’re both clearly freaking out, albeit in the best way possible, impatiently waiting to go to the hospital. Louis lets out an exasperated, fond sigh at her best friends. Her nerves settle. It’ll be okay.

They arrange for Niall to take the cab with Liam and Zayn, because it’s a tiny bit bigger, and Louis and Harry will be left alone in a car of their own. 

Really, it should have been Niall she’d been paying attention to, because right before she hopped in the cab with Liam and Zayn, Niall turned around and asked, a cheeky smirk playing on her lips, “Where d’you sleep last night, Lou?” But she didn’t wait for an answer. She just left Louis to fishmouth and grasp air as the cab drove away, heart pounding in her chest. 

Apparently real-life is not like it’s portrayed in the media (go figure!), and childbirth is not immediate, or at all quick. Zayn and Liam had gotten the phone call from their surrogate at nine in the morning, saying her water had broken. They got to the hospital half an hour later. It had been a full hour since then, and nothing had happened – apart from her dilation going up very slowly, and Zayn or Liam coming out of the room excitedly to inform them that it had been another full inch every now and then. Which, to Louis, seemed very little to be excited for, but then again, she’s always been slightly appalled by the idea of bearing a child – though actually raising children has always been in her plans. It just scares her, how a baby could stretch her belly thin, weighing her down for nearly a _ year, _ and then proceed to force their way out of a _ very small hole. _It always sounded generally unpleasant, a little torturous, and well, there are so many children in shelters who would love a home… Really, what’s the need? 

Just thinking about it makes Louis queasy, so, to calm herself, she decides to call her mum. Liam is, after all, one of her best friends, and has been since the first year of college; she would be very happy to know now and not in a couple of days. 

Louis’ family, though a bit late to the game, fit right in with the close-knit that Harry’s, Zayn’s, and Liam’s families had built through years of friendship longer than any of their lifetimes. It’s more Niall’s family who is most outcasted, unintentionally, what with living in Ireland and all. But they’re in no way unwelcomed. It’s just different.

Louis leans against the wall, phone cradled between her shoulder and ear, so she can nervously fix her clothing while she waits for her mum to pick up. She has a perfect view of Harry like this, sitting next to Niall and reading a magazine while half-listening to her Irish babble. She’s beautiful, with her unstyled curls falling around her face, around apple-red cheeks and jade eyes that Louis can’t see from this far away but sure as daylight knows exactly what they look like - a little grey in the summer.

Harry must sense her staring, moving to smile at her, when Louis’s startled by a “Hello?” on the receiver. She nearly drops the phone; it slips off her shoulder and her sweaty hands struggle to grip it before it hits the wall and crashes or produces an unpleasantly loud bang on the other end.

“Mum! Hey,” she says when she finally fixes it back on her ear. “Sorry,” she laughs. “Anyway; mum, I have to tell you…” her fingers curl in and around the curly cable. 

“Sex tips, huh?” Niall smirks at Harry, pointing out the article she’s reading with her head.

Harry blushes fiercely, but tries to keep her cool. “And what about it, Irish?” She closes the magazine, keeping her finger in it to mark the page and gripping it way tighter than necessary. 

“Hm, nothing,” her impish tone remains. “Just the fact that, ah, whyever would you be looking at something like that? When you’re _ single?” _

Harry licks her lips, loosening her grip on the sticky magazine paper. “Well, that hardly says anything about my sex life, now does it?” 

“Ha!” Niall has one of those laughs that _ should _ be obnoxious and annoying, the kind that’s so loud and weirdly _ hahaha _ that should be outright weird, but it isn’t. It’s contagious, and happy, and free, and so very Niall. “As if my Harriet has _ ever _been one for casual encounters,” Niall winks. Harry’s blush would be way worse if her language wasn’t held back due to the kids in the waiting room. She has a tendency of being very candid.

Harry just pursed her lips and continued reading the very heterosexual-centric article; nothing she hadn’t dealt with before.

“Listen,” Niall says, chewing on gummies she’d bought on the vending machine a couple minutes ago when she was bored. “I was talking, earlier, to one of nurses, and it turns out she’s single, and gay, so naturally we’re going out,” she shrugs. Harry’s just about to roll her eyes, perhaps predictably, when Niall shushes her with a hand on her arm. “But! I asked her if she has any single friends, and yes! She says a very bi, hot nurse – male,” she adds briskly, “is on the lookout!” 

Harry squirms a bit in her seat. “Really?” she says, trying not to sound _ too _ unenthusiastic. 

“Yes!” Niall scolds, probably sensing her hesitancy. “Harry! It’s been so long since you’ve been in a relationship. And you’re so romantic!” She pauses for a second, frowning her eyebrows slightly. “Who are you and _ what _have you done to Harry?” she pouts for dramatic effect. 

Harry laughs, the honky kind only her best friends can extract from her. “Please. I’m doing great, Nialler, thanks for worrying,” she tries to be flippant and end the conversation by focusing back on her magazine, but Niall’s out to get her today. 

“Harry. Please. At least consider it, okay? I’m not into guys at all, and even _ I _can tell he’s attractive as fuck.”

Harry sighs. “Niall…” she fiddles with the corner of the page. 

“Nuh-uh!” she cuts her off. “Give me _ one _good reason not to go.” 

Harry looks up at Louis, taking in the way her slender fingers fix her fringe every other minute even though she looked just as perfect as before. The way Harry can tell her smile is genuine because her eyes are crinkling beautifully. The way she switches her weight from one leg to the other, waddling for a hot second. The way her voice is all soft and lovely.

“Niall, I—” Just then she’s saved by a very overwhelmed Zayn bursting out the door, happy tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“I’m gonna be a mum!” she squeals, jumps excitedly, then rushes back into the room.

Then Louis comes to sit beside her, having finished her call. 

“Anyway, I don’t see why you shouldn’t go and move _ on _,” Niall punches her arm lightly, already over Zayn’s interruption. 

“Go where?” Louis asks, stealing one of Niall’s gummies. 

“I got Harry a date!” she chirps, then jumps and walks excitedly toward the vending machine.

“Oh,” is all Louis replies, suddenly deflating. She’d been such a lovely bubble of energy when talking on the phone – which only now occurs to Harry that maybe she was talking to a possible romantic partner, and her skin boils with green that she has absolutely no right to feel. Especially not now, when Louis thinks she’s into the idea of seeing anyone other than sapphire blue eyes and caramel hair and sassy comments; Louis Louis Louis. 

“Well, uh… Good luck with that, then. I mean, like, we’d always have to end this somehow, right? It was, uh, nice. Messing around with you,” Louis gives her a lopsided, sad smile and follows Niall. Leaving Harry to fishmouth at her, brokenhearted. 

Angry, Harry, too, follows Louis and Niall, charging in their direction with determination. Niall’s talking to a gorgeous lady – she’s uncharacteristically enamoured with her, it’s obvious to everyone. And honestly, who wouldn’t be? Her earth skin is a perfect mine for the gems that are her amber eyes, her deep brown hair a river cascading over the hills of her shoulders.

Beside her is a man – equally gorgeous, Harry finds when her attention shifts off the woman. He’s tall, his clipper cut with a short, fading part doing wonders to accentuate his sharp jawline. Harry’s lost in him – his skin is so dark, and so clear, that he almost glows under the white lights. Harry’s no fool; she knows she’s ogling, and probably breathless.

“Harry!” Niall bubbles when she finally notices her presence; she had been too lost in conversation to notice. “These are Vivianne and Lance, whom we’re going out with tomorrow!” She’s so giddy. 

Harry waves, swaying her hips and biting her lips so they’re plumper, fixing a strand of hair over her shoulder. She knows what she’s doing, knows that Louis is just one or two metres from it all, squeezing her water bottle so tightly it’s slowly dripping on the ground. 

When Harry passes by her, she looks at the ground, then up to Louis' eyes. It all happens in a second, but it’s enough for Louis to blush and turn around to leave. 

It’s not the first time Harry and Louis have fought – they’ve known each other for over a decade, after all – but it’s the first time it matters.

Niall makes an odd face at her when she reaches the group, but says nothing. Harry and Lance flirt. It’s not the same as with Louis.

Lance has game, and he’s gorgeous and funny, and respectful. But he’s not Louis. 

There’s not even anything Harry can point out that she likes better in Louis than in Lance; it’s just that flirting with anyone but Louis feels wrong. 

Louis’ reading a magazine. (That’s the first sign that something’s off.)

She doesn’t read magazines.

(The second sign is the fact that, ten minutes after Harry arrives in this waiting room, Louis still hasn’t flipped a single page.)

Harry sighs, swallowing her pride and making her way over to Louis. 

“Hey,” she says, sitting beside her. Louis’ head hops up, startled. “Can we talk? Somewhere… else?” 

Louis nods curtly. 

They find the hospital’s café – if it were closer to noon, they’d buy their friends something, too, but as it is, Harry and Louis have been in a non-official serious fight for less than an hour. Harry sets out to pick a table and Louis goes to the counter to order tea for them, the two falling into their routine automatically.

“So,” Louis says, sliding a cup of tea Harry’s way.

“So?”

“I hadn’t meant to continue, or anything,” Louis chuckles, his smile not quite filling her face. 

“Right,” Harry runs a nervous hand through her hair. “I guess I… Wanted to clarify, kind of, what we’re, uh… doing,” she tilts her head, as if embarrassed this is how the words came out.

“I don’t know, Harry. We were fucking, but now you have a boyfriend – or a date, whatever – and, like, it had to end at some point. I don’t know.” 

“Okay,” Harry breathes. 

“Do you like him?” Louis asks, and immediately cringes. She doesn’t _ want _to know.

“Louis, I was gonna say no.” 

“What?”

“I didn’t want to go out with someone else, Louis. I _ don’t _ .” Her voice quivered. “But – I mean, you know how much I want to get married. You know I want someone for life; kids, a house, growing old together. We’ve known each other for over a decade, Lou, you do. So like, if, in your head this is just—” she pauses, “_Casual_,” she spits, “well, then I _ will _ go out with other people, because I’m looking for a life partner.” By the time she’s done, tears prickle her eyes, and she hates herself for it. She hates _ Louis, _for that one second, for breaking her heart. 

On the other side of the table, Louis is shocked. “D’you–Why’d you–What?”

“What _ what?” _ Harry’s really mad. At least Louis can tell that much. 

“I–I just… Don’t really understand? I know – and knew – that’s what you want. But, like, me?”

Harry tilts her head. “What?” This time, there’s a comforting smile on her face–the kind with the dimples. Though her eyes are still puffy from crying.

“Yeah?” Louis shifts in her seat. “Like, I… What the hell do I have to offer you, Harry?” She slumps her head in her arm. 

Harry doesn’t say anything for a long time, during which Louis keeps her head in her arm. She just hopes they can work it out, somehow stay friends and not let their friends find out – they’d surely try to get them together again, like Harry, Niall, and Louis herself did with Zayn and Liam. 

Suddenly, Harry sighs. “Louis.” 

Her head jumps up, startled out of her thoughts. 

“If after a whole month of shagging, and ten years of friendship, I really don’t know what to do with you,” she spat. “If you need, and want, I’d be really _ glad _to spend every single day reminding you how kind and gentle and funny and adorable you are. I swear to god, Lou, I will,” she slaps her hand on the table (but not hard enough to hurt). 

Louis just stares at her for a beat. Her tone and physical reaction did not match her words at _all;_ it was so confusing. But slowly, her words filter through the images of an angry-looking Harry and her palm against the table. And then it’s Louis’ time to tease. 

“Kind and gentle, eh? Big words.” She leans back on her chair, a cheeky smirk playing on her lips. 

Harry’s cheeks turn violently red. “Shush.”

“Well—” Louis started, only to be interrupted by Niall bursting in the cafe. 

“Thank god I found you two!” she heaves. “C’mon, the baby’s comin’.” She pulls at Harry’s arm (she’s closer to the door) and continues breathing heavily, impatiently. “Had to run all ‘round this shtupid hospital to find the two of yeh,” she grumbles. “Do yeh _ know _how big this buildin’ is? Gigantic!” 

Harry and Louis just exchange looks, wondering how many pizzas Niall will ask for in return this time. 

“Anyway, we can’t be in there durin’ the birth, ‘course, but Zayn ‘n’ Liam want us there righ’ after.” Her Irish accent gets much heavier when she’s nervous or talking too fast – both of which she’s currently doing.

When they get there, Zayn’s already out of the room, happy tears streaming down her face. They can tell she’s not been waiting, though; the door’s just closing behind her. 

“Oh my god,” she sobs when they near. “She’s beautiful, so gorgeous, oh my god, she’s _ here_,” she says by Louis’ collarbones, leaving her shirt slightly damp. 

“Can we see her yet?” Despite Louis seeing her future self with children, she’s never been as vocal about it as Harry. She barely manages to hold back a huge grin when she realises that their wants just fit like that.

Like they’re meant to be.

Zayn shakes her head. “In a few!” she says, and runs back in, probably to cry some more, but with Liam and their daughter – Zara, is it?

Harry and Louis are left alone again a couple of minutes later, when a nurse allows one of them in, and Niall takes her chance. 

“Hey,” Louis scoots next to Harry on the bench. “So, uh, we...?” The ending comes out more as a question. 

Harry smiles, a bit goofily. “Yes?”

“Well, I, uh, I guess _ I _was saying, right?” she laughs nervously. Harry just prompts her to continue with a raised eyebrow. Louis takes a deep breath. “Listen, Harry, you’re really pretty and I can’t believe you actually want to be with me,” she says all in one breath. “And if I understood you correctly, then would you keep reminding me?”

Harry smiles. “Anytime you want,” she breathes, their faces getting closer and closer, until their lips meet, in a sweet kiss, less lips and tongues and more grins and teeth. But it’s perfect nonetheless.

(Zayn asks, later, if Harry would do a photo shoot of her, Liam, and Zara. 

“I’m a food photographer, Zayn.” 

Zayn cocks her hips. “And I’m a whole-ass meal, Styles, what is your point?” she retaliates in a poor American accent. 

Harry did take pictures, but she wasn’t happy with them, even though they looked perfect to everyone else, Louis made extra sure to let her know that night.)

Back to their building, hours later, Harry and Louis find themselves alone in the hallway, Niall having stopped a street earlier to go to Vivianne’s. 

“Do you…” Harry says quietly, jiggling her keys and not looking Louis in the eye. 

Louis raises her eyebrows, not rushing, just curious.

“Would you like to come in? Sleep here? Tonight.” Louis chuckles lightly as to not laugh at Harry’s nervousness. 

“I’d love to, if you wanna. But I’m not up for it tonight – period’s kicked in,” she shrugs, lop-sided smile falling quickly.

Harry smiles brightly, mostly to herself. “Me too.”

At that, Louis grins for real, not resisting the urge to kiss Harry.

“‘M spending too much time here, Haz.”

“Nah. ‘S perfect,” she slurs against her mouth.

Niall doesn’t stop trying to set Harry up with people. 

Harry had spent the past ten years–minus the short periods of time sprinkled around her life in which she was seeing someone–complaining about being single. Niall had only started intervening after her longest, and most serious relationship with a man who went strictly by the nickname Pepe. 

Louis had never liked him much, but it had been a very baseless feeling. The man was perfect. Good looking, kind, funny, and collected, he was without a doubt everything that Harry had ever wanted. 

And they were in love.

As their relationship evolved, they realised that though they had been happy together, their futures didn’t mesh: Pepe was older, he’d already raised his children and wanted to settle in quiet and peace. Though he said he wouldn’t mind giving Harry the family she’d always wanted, she’d refused, willing to go through heartbreak and singleness all over again just to avoid the fallout that would certainly follow a life lived, not _ un_happily, per se, but now how they _ both _ wanted it.

After the breakup she cried for days, calling in sick for work for an entire week. But after her brief grief, she took the reins back and focused on her work, creating new recipes and hiring new talented bakers and et cetera, always fighting the bigger companies that’d love to steal her prized spot at the bookshop. And the owner of the shop themselves, who was sure a green Starbucks mermaid would attract even more customers than Harry’s butterfly logo. (Their arguments got even worse when Harry would insist it’s actually a _ moth). _

Louis didn’t understand, at the time, why she hadn’t like him. 

But now, clenching her hands so tightly that her short fingernails somehow managed to hurt her palm, the reckless want to just go up to Harry and kiss her, mark her territory as if she were some animal, she saw it. 

Saw that though she and Harry had not kissed until well over their mid-twenties, that though she had not been _ in _love with Harry the whole time, in the decade during which she’s known her, she’s always loved her. 

She had been interested as a uni kid, when Liam had to make a pitstop at Harry’s family house to pick up his NES, to take it to the flat she and Liam would share for the next three years. 

Harry was getting ready to go out. It was Zayn’s birthday, and back then she wasn’t close to Liam–who had had a raging crush on Zayn for going on two years. 

It was the first time Louis ever saw Harry. 

“Hey Haz,” Liam had shouted as she walked through the door without knocking. 

From somewhere distant in the house came back a grumble. 

Liam sighed at it and continued up the stairs. Louis didn’t know what to do with herself, but it _ definitely _excluded being found alone and wandering in the middle of strangers’ house by said strangers, so she followed Liam. She didn’t seem to mind.

Liam walked down the hall of closed white doors, stopping only at the very last one – which was pink. She knocked twice, and, after affirming it was Liam, was allowed in. 

The girl that opened the door had brunette, curly hair, cut short around her chin. Her makeup was simple enough, but very pretty. Louis, not having worn makeup properly since she came out to herself at fifteen, could only pinpoint lipstick and mascara, though the amount of scattered cosmetics on the dresser behind her indicated otherwise.

She was only wearing a thin tee (no bra) and dance shorts (the very very short kind that are as tight as a second skin), clearly getting ready to put on the light peach dress that was laid out on her bed, pumps of matching colour on the floor. 

She faltered for half a second when she noticed the other person in the room, but quickly recovered. “Hey Lima.” 

“Hey Harry.” Liam pointed to his right and said, “This’s my mate Louis. Hey, do you have my NES?” She didn’t even allow time for a shy wave. 

“Sure, let me unplug it,” Harry shrugged, and squeezed past them without a word. Louis decidedly did not stare at her walking away.

Liam followed, but much slower than Harry, so by the time they got to the living room downstairs, Harry had already unplugged the console. She handed it to Liam, then hugged her. She said something in Liam’s ear that made her laugh and blush; it had likely to do with Zayn. 

She offered Louis a wave and left without a single verbal interaction between the two. 

And still, Louis did not forget her when they saw each other again two years later, this time on moving day. 

Louis was finally able to afford a place of her own, a dingy but comfortable apartment in London, near her job. She lived on the sixth floor, and there were no stairs, and back then she wasn’t used to the daily workout yet, especially with heavy boxes. She was picking up one of the last ones when none other than Harry Styles walked past her.

A second later she came back, her backpack hanging off one shoulder. “Hey, you’re Liam’s friend, right?” she said with a smile. 

Louis hoped she hid her disappointed at Harry having forgotten her name well. “Hey, I am. Louis,” she extended her hand. “You’re the girl with Liam’s NES.” 

Harry smiled, dimples appearing. “Harry. You moving?” 

“Yep,” Louis said, popping the P when the box she’d picked up settled in her arms. “Sixth floor,” she added, pointing at the right building with her head. 

Harry’s eyes widened. “Really? Me too! Let me help you.” 

Later, Harry came by to ask if Louis would like to have dinner with her. 

“I’m a cook,” she’d said, “and I figured you’d be too tired to prepare anything tonight?” 

Louis smiled. “To be honest, I rarely cook. Terrible at it. So it’d be a pleasure to have an edible home-cooked meal for once.” 

A week later, Liam moved in the building right in front of theirs, visible from Harry’s veranda. From then on, the three had meals together almost daily, quickly becoming close mates. 

Harry had a girlfriend then, a girl named Cara. They broke up around the time Niall came in.

(Niall became friends with them when he moved in with Louis. They had known each other from drama class at uni, and needed a place to live. He rarely paid rent, but it was fine.

Zayn came in about a year after that, after running away from her wedding and shacking up with Harry for four years, until she and Liam finally got together and she moved in with her, to the complex across the street.)

  
  


In the ten years in which Harry and Louis had been best friends, Louis’ sure she was simply hiding her feelings from herself.

It’s easy to love (yes, love) Harry. They just mesh. 

(The feeling’s mutual.)

By the time Niall’s collected pictures and qualities of various of her single acquaintances, Harry’s a bit pissed with Niall.

“How many times, Niall? I am _ not _interested in any of those people. I don’t care how many crunches they can do, I’m not looking.”

“Harry. You’re always complaining about being single! Seriously, you’re rejecting these people now, but next week, I’ll bet you’ll be crying by Zara’s crib because she’s not yours.” 

Harry just blows on her tea, eyes pointedly on Niall’s. 

“At least try looking at them,” she pleads, holding up a picture of a freckled woman with a beautiful smile showcasing a row of straight white teeth, her hair in Bantu knots; a photo of a man with dirty blond hair peeking from behind hers. He was pretty bland, Louis thought, and her opinion was very valid, thank you very much, even if she wasn’t interested in men. And even if she could only see a sliver of his picture.

It doesn’t matter that Harry’s _ rejecting _those people. Jealousy seems blind to facts and logic.

Harry sighs. “Whatever, Niall. Leave ‘em here if you like, I don’t promise you anything.” 

It’s quite a vague answer, and Louis would make more than sure that she would not consider those people, but Niall takes it with a smile. She’s by the door already when Harry says, “Doesn’t Vivianne mind that you keep collecting information about all these attractive single people?” she fiddles with the pictures, careful to touch only the sides, to not leave any finger marks on the film.

“Nah, Vivi knows it’s for yeh,” she says simply, over her shoulder. 

A couple of minutes pass in silence, and Louis and Harry start speaking at the same time. They laugh, then Harry motions for Louis to speak first. 

“Well, it seems that Niall and Vivianne are, like, serious, almost?” Niall doesn’t do serious. She’s more of a fuck and let go kind of person (but her partners always know that). 

“Right? I’m happy for them.”  
  
“Hm. What did you want to say?” 

“Oh,” Harry blushes. “It’s just…” Louis motions for her to come sit with her on the couch, so that they can cuddle, rather than communicate from the kitchen table to the living room (it’s only a step up and not even two metres away, but all the same.)

“So?” Louis prompts with a sweet kiss to her neck, Harry fitting her back against Louis’ chest.

“Well, it’s just,” she fiddles with Louis’ shirt, “do you want to tell them?” She brings her big, hopeful eyes to Louis’, her real questions hanging in the air, in the space between them, fizzling and sparkling. 

Louis’ eyes run from her right to left eye, matching the restlessness in them with her breathing. “Do you?” she whispers, her hot breath fogging Harry’s reading glasses. They giggle, and Louis pulls them off. 

Harry nods softly. She reaches to fix Louis’ fringe, very delicately biting her bottom lip. “If you want to.” 

“That… would be rather nice.” Harry smiles (and she does too, of course.) “I’d be able to hold your hand wherever I want,” she makes a face. “Well, you know,” she laughs unfunnily. 

Harry smiles, and kisses her, just a press of lips–their smiles are stretching their lips too much for anything else, but it’s good.

It’s perfect.

“I’d love to,” Louis answers, planting a kiss on her cheek. Then she pulls away, swallowing hard, eyes flicking from Harry’s left and right eyes. 

“What is it?”

“Do you know?”

Harry chuckles airily, smile fading almost immediately after. “Know what?”

“That I’m crazy about you. Completely.” 

Harry smiles wide this time, deep enough to make her dimples appear (and stay). 

“I love you. I don’t want to – I want to dance all my dances with you.” Louis hides her blush in the crook of Harry’s neck.

Harry doesn’t say anything back, for a terrifying minute. “Why?” she whispers. 

Louis isn’t expecting that. She jumps to look her in the eye properly. “Why?” she chuckles humourlessly. “Because… because it’s you. Out of everyone on Earth, it’s you, Harry.” 

Harry isn’t convinced, just bites her lip. “But I’m so picky and neat and—” Louis interrupts her with a kiss. 

She only pulls back to say: “Listen. You’re quite the neat freak. You like things done your way, and can’t accept it otherwise. You’re quite high-maintenance, you know? _ But,” _she peppers small kisses all over Harry’s face until she smiles again, “I like maintaining you.” 

“Do you?”

“Yes. If you’ll have me, I’ll gladly do it forever.” 

_ i see swimming pools and living rooms and aeroplanes_  
_i see a little house on the hill and children’s names  
_ _i see quiet nights poured over ice and tanqueray_

—_fools, troye sivan _  
  


“Lou, have you not been labelling the boxes?” Harry groans, putting a box down, wiping sweat off her forehead.

“Um, no?” Louis’ voice comes from another room in the apartment. “Sorry, baby, I didn’t know.” Her voice gets gradually closer Harry, a little strained with the weight of the box she’s carrying. 

She puts it beside the box Harry had been inspecting and mirrors her stance – hands fisted (softly) on her hips, pensive look on. It doesn’t take long for Harry to look at her, confused by the unusual silence, and laugh when she notices Louis’ silly forced look of concentration.

“Looou,” she whines, giggling. 

Louis smiles fondly, happy to have broken the tension – however small it had been. She moves closer and wraps her arms around Harry, tucking her chin in the space between her shoulder and neck, pressing a sweet kiss on the spot. 

They just stay there, in the kitchen, swaying to a song made of their heartbeats and breaths and giggles, until the phone rings and they’re forced to part.

“‘Lo, you’ve reached Mrs and Mrs Tomlinson, this is Louis?” she says, shooting Harry a goofy grin. She’s been using the slightly formal introduction ever since they became official civil partners nearly two years ago. (The excitement hasn't faded yet, though Harry eye-rolls fondly in response.) (Harry laughed at the law and legally changed her name anyway, not one to be stopped by homophobia.)

Slowly, Louis’ eyes stop seeing her – they’re still on Harry’s direction, but she’s not _ seeing_, not actively – and her smile fades into something serious. “Okay, right, yes, we’ll be there as soon as possible,” she says breathily. “Okay, you too, bye,” she hurries to put the phone back on the receiver. “Okay Harry, the babies are comin’ earlier – uh, right now, in fact.” 

Harry rushes to their room to grab the nursery things while Louis calls a cab and friends and family. The twins were predicted to come only a month later, so their bag wasn’t ready – Harry’s just thankful they had things picked out at all.

Harry’s trying to find scissors to open the pack of diapers when Louis rushes into the room. 

“Haz,” she says, breathless, “you ready?” A pause for breathing. “Need help, love?” 

“Scissors,” is all Harry says, hissing when she knicks her hand on something sharp – not scissors, unfortunately. She doesn’t even notice it when Louis leaves again, only when she comes back, carrying a bandaid and scissors. 

The hospital is crowded. The birth takes hours. 

But it doesn’t feel like it.

To Harry and Louis, it feels only like a few seconds have passed when they fix two little girls in their car seats. (They’re borrowed, from Louis’ baby siblings, but they’ll do just fine.)  
  


A week later they move into their new place – a house, where the girls will have space to run and play outside, where they can have pets, where Harry and Louis can grow old together. Through arguments and reconciliations, they only grow stronger together.

It’s perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! please leave kudos and comments if you liked <3
> 
> [tumblr](https://moonshinelouis.tumblr.com/post/612881707155243008/moonshinelouis-archive-all-strings-attached) // [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5eiQSN7fOzFzIp1sjusMWA?si=chvjel-0TsuYjv_WUemB1A)


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